The Fifth
by GuileandGall
Summary: Cinq, never your typical troublemaker, carried that moniker most of his life. In Stilwater, he earned a more sinister reputation, which left him in a coma for several years. Awakening amidst another turf war, his old friend convinces him to revive the Saints & retake their city. This is a series of one-shots detailing Boss Cinq's revival & building of the Saint's empire.
1. A Queen

**Summary: **Cinq and Johnny have a plan to take back the city that they worked and bled for. It did not matter to them that they had been betrayed from within, that one of them was almost sentence to fry in the electric chair, or that the other had spent five years recovering from someone's attempt to make him extra crispy. Stilwater belonged to the Saints, and it was only a matter of time until everyone learned that little fact.

After recruiting Carlos, Johnny sends his old friend the names of two contacts he's made in the few years since Cinq has been out of commission. Ever the gentleman, the boss opts to head to Quinbecca to make the introduction of the woman with her finger on the pulse of Stilwater.

**a/n: **With Cinq's stroll through the games I found myself at a loss of where or how to start this collection of one shots. But I discovered something called "The Original List of Themes," which has 100 themes/prompts. The first one happens to be: Introduction, which inspired this. Not sure how long it will hold for him and his pieces, but I'm going to give it and a few of the 100 theme lists a go for him from time to time and see what shakes loose.

And notable thanks to _Chyrstis_ for the beta.

Just a note. You can all blame _thebutcherofstilwater _ for this. I conquer with their assessment of the striking lack of M!Boss/Shaundi out there, and while I've been toying around with the idea of creating a male boss just to pair with her I had not done much more than think about it.

**The Fifth: A Queen**

***1***

Johnny Gat told Cinq early in the day that he was going to line up some interviews, so to speak. The newly minted boss (he still wasn't sure how that coin got tossed to him, but he was going to run with it) immediately sought out Carlos Mendoza's help. The kid was stand-up in Cinq's opinion, but then he had helped the formerly comatose man out of prison when he was in a pretty bad state; the part that Cinq had never really figured out was why this kid helped him in the first place and seemingly did so with no ulterior motive.

When the two of them hit the docks after the prison break, Carlos told Cinq to lay low and stay off the radar. He could not know how Cinq would react to his friend's sentencing hearing, or that he and Johnny would opt to start the old ball rolling again. The kid just helped because he could. Part of that made Cinq grateful enough to want to flag him up, but it made another part of the long-time troublemaker want to leave him out of it entirely. The kid's grin and his excited reply to the offer pleased the taller man recruiting him, but Cinq knew Carlos was going to need a lot of guidance if this was going to work out.

Eyes moving constantly across a wealthy field of temptation, Cinq strolled across the parking lot and up the street. Every once and a while he would pull his glasses down either to take a second look at a gleaming metal beauty or offer a second look to this or that young woman strolling past him. He had to admit he loved it when they blushed. Usually a quick wink could garner him an audible clue to their enjoyment of his attention, he thought as that very action garnered a lively spell of giggles from a cute little green-eyed redhead and her blonde friend. He smiled at himself as he turned down an alley.

The young man was particular about his cars. His tastes in clothes and cars were what he would call refined and what Johnny liked to call uppity, though he wanted to think that he might have had at least a little bit of influence on his old friend who was now dressing a bit more like Cinq and less like one of the defunct Rollerz in their too baggy jeans and massive jackets. When the boss noticed the shimmer part of the way down the alley, his phone started vibrating in his pocket.

Pulling it out he punched up the text from Johnny just as another started the phone to wriggling again.

_[Gat]: Hey! Heard about this girl with connections all over town._

_[Gat]: She's willing to meet you._

_[Gat]: Do NOT fuck this up._

Cinq smiled. His pace slowed as he typed in his own response.

[Me] You know me.

_[Gat]: Yeah I do._

_[Gat]: And like I said. Don't fuck it up._

His laughter was low and playful, not only because of his friend's response, but also because of the prize he had discovered tucked up in a small private lot in the alley. After checking the address that Johnny sent him, Cinq stuffed his phone into his pocket as he walked up to a little classic Venom he had been eying. The tall, broad-shouldered man always did have a weak spot for sports cars, especially ones with engines made to run. He loved to drive fast as evidenced by the number of grand theft auto charges on his thicker-than-most rap sheet. Getting into the sleek little beauty was easy enough, but it took him longer than usual to get the engine going.

"Damn, Son," he lectured himself as he adjusted the rear view mirror. "You are out of practice." He slipped his dark sunglasses back on and shifted the car into gear with less than a thought about why this car was parked in an alley.

Rather than pulling up a map on his phone, Cinq decided to see if he remembered this part of town or not. Twenty minutes later when he pulled up in front of the address Johnny had texted him, the man was rather pleased with himself and his memory. The young woman leaning on the hood of the car, he assumed, was the one he was there to meet. The conversation she was having with a fidgety kid went on, though the attention of both was on the new arrival.

As his eyes moved over her, Cinq had no problem understanding just why she had the city wired. Even in low slung jeans and a tight baby tee she still managed to ooze this strangely confident sensuality. Likely, it did not matter if she was a guy's type. This girl looked to be one of those that if they walked up to a guy and showed an interest said man would be putty in her hands until she saw fit to stop toying with them. She was precisely the type he preferred to avoid.

_Gonna have to watch yourself around this one, pal._

***2***

Shaundi glanced over at the car, wondering if this was the guy Johnny told her about. When he did not exit the vehicle immediately, she assumed it was. The door finally opened and she got an eyeful of the guy wanting to revive the reputation of the Third Street Saints. When Johnny Gat told her he was quick on his feet and one of the smartest guys the enforcer had ever known, she had conjured a whole different image.

Tall, dark, and handsome, as cliché as the description sounded, even in her own head, was the perfect way classify the man that stepped out of the silver Venom. He had to be 6'3" if he was an inch, broad shoulders, trim waist, though judging from the way he moved he used to be thicker. She attributed the barer muscle mass to his time out of circulation. And while she didn't care for bald men, it worked on him, which she attributed to the start of a goatee roughing up his chin.

_Apparently being in a coma can't be all bad, if he can wake up and look like that_.

What made her stare at him were the eyes-his light gray eyes shone eerily from under hooded eyes. They were somehow incredibly creepy but sexy all at the same time. _He probably gets a lot of attention over those eyes_, she thought as she let her gaze trail over the rest of him. The quick assessment left her with the realization that the eyes weren't his only assets.

"Jimmy, beat it. I'll call Stewie and see if he can't hook you up," Shaundi told the little tweaker who was looking for his buddy in the wrong place yet again.

"Oh … Okay. Thanks, Shaundi," he said, fidgeting even more than normal as his bloodshot eyes remained locked on the tall black man approaching them.

Shaundi shook her head at both of them-the intimidated and the intimidator. "That all you have up your sleeve?" she asked as she straightened, crossing her arms over her chest in a dare. "Because it's going to take more than slow walk and a stern face to convince me."

He nodded and turned his attention from her to her car. The man ran his fingertips along the slope of the hood as he walked the length of the car. When he stopped near the driver's seat he turned those cool eyes back onto her.

"She's quite a beauty. Great lines," he offered, letting his eyes draw along her frame as easily as they had moved over her classic Vegas.

Shaundi set her hands on her hips. "I'm more than aware. You drive?"

"Yeah."

Her finger traced the sparse neckline of her top before her fingers slipped beneath the fabric. She had to give him credit for keeping his eyes on her face rather than her hand. Even Johnny had failed that one. Dangling the key from a little chain, she stared up at him. "But do you drive well?"

"Rest assured, Sweetie, I know how to handle mine in all sorts of arenas," he countered, looming over her in a way that left her uncertain as to whether to be intimidated or turned on.

"Prove it," she purred, inching toward him a little more.

He seemed to be studying her. Then he wrapped his hand around the challenge she was literally dangling in front of him. "Get in the car," he growled in a way that made her spine tingle.

She had to admit Johnny was right about one thing. He was pretty, and damn tempting. But Gat had also warned her about his tendencies to discount people who threw themselves at him, and Shaundi had no intention of being underestimated. If the Saints could put things back together, and she could get in on the ground floor, there would be no more scraping or running interference for the players. She would be a player on the only team left in the game, if what Johnny said played out; then she would have the control and the clout.

***3***

"Where to now?" Shaundi asked as the laughter fell out of her voice.

The last jump had been textbook perfect, if they wrote textbooks for that sort of thing, which he was fairly certain they did not. And the car handled pretty nicely when it landed on the freeway, though the mom in the station wagon the little muscle car had landed in front of had not been quite as appreciative of Cinq's skill as he was. It also seemed to impress Shaundi well enough.

"Going to take you our little hole in the ground to meet the guys."

"What about your Venom?"

"Not my car, Sweetie."

"You left a stolen car in front of my house?"

He had to hand it to her. She almost sounded scandalized at the prospect. "You really expect me to believe that dump was your place?" he asked with a knowing look. "Or that you'd meet a cat with my rep in your own neighborhood?"

She held the stoicism for almost a minute before it started to break. Her smile started slow, like she really did not want him to see it. The corners of her mouth rose slightly. When he quirked an eyebrow at her, reinforcing his disbelief, she finally let the smile form and shook her head. Cinq loved winning, at everything. It did not matter if it was cards, cars, shooting, girls, or even just getting someone to admit the truth. He loved to win.

Smiling in reply, he turned his attention back to the road. "Didn't think so. Besides I'm pretty sure no one is going to report that car stolen."

"Why's that?" she asked, her hand smoothing out the lie of the denim on her thigh.

"The two boxes of weapons in the back seat with police evidence tape sealing them," he said matter-of-factly. He'd noticed the florescent yellow tape with the little shield logos at a stop light and got curious. Slicing open one of the boxes, had confirmed his suspicions about the contents.

"What the hell?"

Cinq shrugged. "No idea. Someone's probably got the wrong sort of friends in the right sort of places," he replied. His throat went a little dry when he recalled Johnny's revelation that that very same statement could likely reply to both of them. _Fucking Troy_, part of him still couldn't believe that shit about him being the Chief of Police. Of course he was also struggling with the image of Dex as some corporate stooge, which he finally plied from Johnny after enough whiskey to float a barge.

"Either way, no prints, no problem. Though the guy that lives there might get a house call, or two, depending on who finds it first," Cinq stated rather coolly. "Might want to warn him to skip town for a few days, if he's a friend. If not, then call that little tweaker and have him tape the visit for entertainment value later."

"Are you serious?"

"What?" he asked with a glance to his right. "If the gun runners find him first, it could be fun."

Shaundi laughed, shaking her head. "You are one twisted fuck."

"You are not the first person to say so," he agreed as he pulled off the freeway.

"You would seriously watch that."

When they stopped at the light, his grip tightened on the steering wheel for a moment trying to decide just how enlightened she should be. He knew that Johnny would clue them all in eventually, but since the opportunity presented itself, Cinq decided to shatter the well-dressed illusion himself.

"Actually, I'd probably be the guy they called to do that," he said, watching her carefully.

The little flinch in her shoulder did not surprise him, except that he expected a much more obvious response.

"Johnny will tell you all this, I'm sure. But he and I are as close as we are, because of how well we worked together. And most of our work together consisted of making people wish they had not done certain things. Enforcing is how I made my bones. Just so happens that finding creative ways to make people regret for their transgressions was only one of my many skills," Cinq explained.

"He didn't tell me much more than that you were the man with the plan and the stones to make it work," Shaundi said as the light turned green.

"Yeah, well that's Gat for you. Just enough information to get you in trouble," he said with a laugh.

When he stopped the car in the open parking lot of the mission, he pulled up the parking brake on the standard and turned off the engine. Then Cinq turned toward her, bracing his hand on the back of her headrest. "Look, take this how you will, but you can walk if this isn't your gig. Johnny vouched for you, and that's all I need, but you should know, we're not fucking around here."

"And you think I am?" she hissed at him. Her dark eyes burned at him. She was not pleased by his words.

"I never said that. You chose to infer it," he clarified. "The Saints _will_ take back Stilwater one way or another. And if you have any qualms about me or about how serious this is, then you should walk now. Because walking away later will _not_ be an option."

She stared up at him. The implication and her understanding of it clear.

"Take your time. In that door, to the left, then just follow the stairs down," he said as he opened the door.

Cinq strutted toward the entrance; it was just the way he walked whenever things were calm for a moment or two. He had just pulled open the door to the mission when he heard the car door slam. He smiled and held the door open waiting for her. When Shaundi reached him, she stepped right up to him, finger poking into his chest to emphasize her point.

"I'm not some fucking little girl playing with the big boys. I am the motherfucking big time. And if you're serious about taking back this town, you'll _need _me," Shaundi growled. Her face was stern and completely serious, but it was the look in her bright eyes that convinced him.

He nodded at her with the trace of a crooked but approving smile on his face. "Don't ever poke me again, Sweetie," he replied lightly.

Shaundi drew her hand back quickly and tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth.

Cinq set his hand on the small of her back and guided her into the mission. He leaned toward her slightly as he said, "Besides I think you might just find purple suits you."

"What? You saying I don't look good in white?" she replied lightly, with a note of playfulness in her voice.

"Shit, girl. Ain't nobody saying that," Johnny answered for him. "Good to see you again, Shaundi."

"How ya been, Johnny?" she asked, hugging him.

Gat slipped one arm around her. "Fuck ton better since this motherfucker woke up. Glad you didn't piss her off."

"Oh, he tried," Shaundi revealed. "But luckily I've known you too long. Plus, I think he's out of practice."

"Fuck you guys," Cinq crooned as they trotted down the stairs.

"You're boy showed up. What's his name? Carlos?" Johnny interjected.

"Ah, good."

"You talk to my boy out at the apartments in Misty Lane yet?"

"Not yet. Figured it would be rude to keep a lady waiting."

"Bullshit. You still think with your pecker more than you should," Johnny bit back.

"Goddamn, Johnny."

Gat turned and eyed him sharply. "I told my boy you'd be out there today. He's waiting on you."

"Shaundi, can I borrow your wheels?" Cinq asked, still staring at his old friend.

"Sure thing," she agreed, tugging the keys back out of her bra and tossing them at him.

_Fucking Johnny_, he thought as he took the few stairs between him and the door two at a time. _Still pushing. _The phone danced in his pocket and he tugged it out.

_[Gat]: We ain't got time to fuck around. _

_[Gat]: Let's get on our damn feet first then I'll find you a whole fleet of pussy._

_[Gat]: Boss._

"Motherfucker," Cinq grumbled at the phone. But he knew Johnny was right. The four of them did not a gang make. He also knew that with Carlos' inexperience someone else with some time under their belt was going to be vital. He really did hate it when Johnny was right; it did not happen all that often but when it did it stung like a hardcore bitch.


	2. Mazophilia

**Summary: **There is one thing that Cinq always notices about a woman, not the first thing, but it is in his top five. And he is of the opinion that there is a shortage of perfect breasts in the world, so when he has the chance to show his affection for them he does so with great attention and fervor.

**a/n: **Written to fill a prompt for the TFLN Meme sent by bisexorcist: Your choice of ship. (727): If I died tonight, I'd be content knowing you were the last person to see my boobs.

**Mazophilia**

Cinq reclined into the fluffy down pillows, propping one hand behind his head as he channel surfed. When cold fingertips skimmed over his bicep he turned his attention to their owner. Her eye were still heavy lidded, of course, she'd only slept for about twenty minutes this time. One corber of his mouth ticked up as she dropped sweet little kisses along the curve of his shoulder and his chest before meeting his lips. Her kiss was a mixful of lustful and relaxed-it didn't clue him in at all as to whether there was going to be a fourth round or if she intended otherwise.

When she moved, slithering from beneath the covers to straddle his hips, the boss thought he knew the answer. As her hips ground against him, his hands moved up her thighs with clear intention but before his thumb reached its goal she moved again. He groaned in disagreement when she stood up. She pecked him again, this time much more playfully.

He tapped the control panel laying on the nightstand and turned the lights up a little more. The better to ogle her with. And that's precisely what he did as she dressed. It didn't matter that the sportscaster droned about the scores for and the performance of his team in the game, his attention was taken up with her. The smooth curve of her hip, that enticing bubble which he could never resist leaving a bite mark on. He grinned at the reddish purple outline and felt the familiar tightness in his groin when he recalled the way she'd hissed and moaned when he left if there.

"You have the most amazing breasts," he said. She had taken a little hop as she tugged up her jeans, causing them to bounce.

She looked over at him, a little color kissing her cheeks as she smiled. Then she decided to mess with him. She stood there on the opposite side of the room and faced him, hands on her hips and thrusting her chest out at him just enough to accentuate them. "You think so?" she asked finally. The brunette made a show of inspecting them.

"Yeah, I do."

His hand flattened against the sheet over his thigh as one of her hands skimmed along her ribcage and slowly over the curve, giving it the gentlest squeeze. "I always thought they were a little on the small side," she noted. Then her fingers came together, pinching the rosy pink peak. "And I have small nipples."

"Damn, girl," he breathed, his hand pressing along the length of now hard cock. "You sure you gotta leave?"

"I should," she teased, adding a small tug to the mix. "Unless you have a better offer."

That got him out of bed. "I'll make you breakfast."

"No dice. I fell for that once before and you cook worse than my pop."

"I'll take you to that place you like the one with pecan waffles."

She looked up at him, he knew she was surprised. "You remember that."

Cinq loomed over the very short woman and traced her jaw with two fingers. Even though she was already looking up at him, he tilted her chin just that much more. "You'd be surprised what I remember," he taunted before he kissed her. His hands ran the same track hers hand, and when he gently pulled at her pert nipples she moaned wantonly into his mouth. "So sex and waffles, or do I need to sweeten the deal?"

"Hmm?" he hummed against her neck. Cinq lifted her onto the short dresser, but it brought her up to a height where he didn't have to bend quite so far to reach his goal. "Hot shower, back scrub?" He made the other offers between the greedy licks that circled her nipples. "I could possibly even convinced into lotion duty." With that his mouth closed over the pebbled flesh and he sucked gently, earning an intoxicating little moan.

She accepted his offer not long after it was made, with a shaky, "Oh, fuck," as he continued his ample attention to her breasts. "Take me back to bed," she breathed, her hands smoothing over his clean-shaven head.

With her arms wrapped around his head and her legs around his body, Cinq managed precisely that and carried her far up onto the bed. He didn't even bother with the jeans at first; having been intent to show her just how much he enjoyed her breasts. But once she started grinding against him with abandon, it became necessary to remove them or he'd end up sporting an uncomfortable case of brush burn. Even with her nude his attention refocused where it had been since she tempted him.

Her slick heat ground against his cock, while his mouth and hands busied themselves. When the shuddering moan broke free of her throat, he sucked a little harder, dragging his teeth over her sensitive nipple as she bucked beneath him. Her nails bit into his shoulder and back, as she rubbed her clit against him rapaciously.

"Goddamnit Cinq," she purred against his temple.

Placing a long slow lick over one then the other, he left both his hands there as he kissed her. "I've told you before that you had great tits."

"Guess I didn't realize just how much you liked them."

He winced. "I might have to rectify that. Remind you more often."

She laughed breathlessly and moaned when he shifted his hips against her. "You know, if I died tonight, I'd be content knowing you were the last person to see my boobs," Shaundi giggled, running her hands up his back.

"Hell, give me time girl. I'll see if I can't add to the list," Cinq said with a cocky grin as he reached for the nightstand drawer.


	3. Malapert

**Summary: **Just a night out. Shaundi, however, isn't feeling the whole vibe that night.

**A/n: **Written to fill a prompt from 06/21/2014 (Yeah, that date is correct), from Chyrstis. Malapert: Clever in manners of speech. I got stuck on this one hard, because Cinq is much smoother than I could ever manage to be, and I did not feel I'd do the man justice.

**###**

**Malapert**

The decibels in the club reached levels that scientists wrote papers about. The thump of the bass could be seen in the surface ripple of her martini. Despite that, Shaundi looked bored as she stabbed at an olive which escaped after its initial impalement on her cocktail skewer. The green orb held her attention more fully than the man standing next to her. Off and on he leaned toward her, speaking loudly into her ear as she gave him absolutely no sign of interest.

A flashy movement on the other side of the bar made her laugh. Pierce heels his arms wide, showing off his suit as a woman ran her hand down his back. Cinq, on the other hand, just leaned closer and brushed a curl behind a woman's ear. Even from the other side of the bar, it was obvious, her blush bloomed up her neck as the boss leaned toward her ear. Shaundi just laughed. Pierce always griped that his cousin could be smooth as silk when he wanted to be; something Shaundi figured out early on. Tonight it seemed stop be working in Washington's favor.

From the looks of the situation, the boss was going to win their standing bat. Shaundi sighed when her attention shifted to the chatty man to her left. His chest bumped her shoulder as he swayed drunkenly. The flash of her measuring glare stayed on him for a moment before she tipped the cup a little to try for a better angle on the olive rolling about in the bottom of her glass. Her maneuvering worked. Capturing the olive, Shaundi bit it off the end of the skewer just as Mr.-Hasn't-Got-a-Clue rambled too loudly about the watered down drinks this club sold. He had been going opinion about it for awhile, oblivious to her disinterest in him or his diatribe. Then he suggested she come back to his place for a real night cap. When she felt his hand on her rear, Shaundi flung the contents of her martini glass into the rude bastard's face.

After he stumbled away, she set the glass back on the bar, sucking a bit of the concoction off her knuckle. "Another?" the bartender asked with a laugh she could see in his sage-green eyes more than hear over the music.

"Please."

He returned her nod and moved to make her another drink. _At least, I got my olive_ , she reasoned as she looked up, eyes scanning the club before returning to where the boss had been. She fully expecting to see one or both of the women the boss and Pierce were talking to leaning toward them in that way women did. Maybe even playing up their low necked tops as they traced their fingertips along their collars to accentuate their bust lines. She rolled her eyes at the very thought of it, not that she did not use the exact same moves when it suited her.

Cinq would be hell to put up with for a week if he managed to find someone to take home while she chose not to, even so, the place really was devoid of anyone that struck her fancy that night. Shaundi also knew she would deserve it. She would chide him relentlessly if the situation were reversed. Not finding the boss, or Pierce, she leaned forward looking down the bar to see if they wound up in one of the booths on the back wall. The Saint sat back. It was better not to find him; she was certain that if he saw what just happened he would be in full-on gloat mode. The bored search for her friends left her ignoring the ruckus growing behind her.

So the hand on her shoulder came as a complete shock, but not more so than the dripping, angry scowl that met her when she turned toward the touch. They say these things came in threes, which held true in this instance. The word "bitch" barely crossed the soaked man's lips before a big hand gripped his collar and another connected with his jaw. Cinq shook his hand once and let go of the man as he collapsed. The boss leaned down and said something she could not hear over the music.

Shaundi just blinked at Cinq for a moment. They both knew she was more than capable of handling that situation on her own, but she also did not mind the boss stepping in. It was his way. Anyone in the club wearing Saints colors could have expected the same kind of intervention. Cinq did not say anything either, just leaned on the bar next to her and laid a $50 bill on the bar.

"Make it two," he told the bartender, holding up two fingers. Then turning a sly grin on Shaundi. He would not ask about it, even if he was curious.

Shaundi grinned up at him and leaned on the bar, arms folded in front of her. "What happened?" she asked with nod in the direction of where he had been earlier.

"Her dog didn't like me."

"What? She took you—"

He was already shaking his head. "Nope. Damn bobble-eyed mutt was in her bag. Looked like a furry little crackhead."

"Tell me you didn't say that."

The shrug told the story—he had indeed said just that.

"Oh damn, boss." Shaundi dropped her forehead into her hand dramatically. "I bet Pierce was pissed."

"Nah. Damn thing love him."

Shaundi choked back the start of her laughter.

"Besides I said it without thinking," he told her. When his drink arrived he took the olives out of his glass and deposited them into hers.

"Obviously." Shaundi looked up and just watched as the glass touched his lips then emptied, completely. She shook her again.

"Yeah, well, it was the truth. Ugly, tiny, troll dog," Cinq mumbled loud enough for her to hear.

Shaundi laughed brightly.

"The creepy thing chirped at me," he explained as another martini was placed near his elbow. He gave the bartender a nod and pushed the bill toward him, making a small gesture to tell him the boss was not expecting change. Again he removed the stick with the olives from his glass, this time he held it out to Shaundi.

She took it and pulled one off with her teeth. "Guess he didn't think much of your moves."

"Lies. I got moves for days," he countered after a sip, leaning toward her with a hint of a growl in his voice. It was a fact Shaundi knew well. The pair of them regularly wagered on nights like this, betting on who might go home with the most numbers or with a date. "How about you?" the boss added, folding his arms and leaning on the bar. He only glanced behind him for a moment before turning those big, beautiful eyes back on her.

Shaundi wrinkled her nose. "Slim pickings tonight."

"I thought you said you could always find … entertainment."

"Well, tonight you're the best looking motherfucker in here," Shaundi said, mimicking the way she thought he would say it.

Cinq smirked. "I could have told you that."

His shoulders shook gently as he lifted his glass again. Shaundi joined in when he spilled a bit on his forearm after she bumped his shoulder with her own.

"You're an ass."

"You say that like it's news."

Shaundi gave him a crooked grin. "Only to people who don't know you."

Cinq glanced over at her, smiling, as he wiped a napkin over his skin. There was a question in the look; one Shaundi knew well enough. Then his brow rose just a smidgen as the backs of his fingertips grazed her elbow. It was an unspoken invitation; a truce to their usual challenge. Neither of them could lose the bet if they left together. Her observation had been completely accurate, he really was the prettiest man in the room and the only one that really captured her interest that night.

Shaundi did not even think about the fact that it was happening more and more often. She just took a quick swig from her glass and nicked another olive before hopping off her bar stool. Cinq polished off his second martini, much like he had the first. When his warm hand came to rest on the small of her back, Shaundi strutted, oblivious to the crush of bodies as she allowed the boss to lead her out of the packed, noisy club.


	4. Countdown

**Summary:** The boss bails on his own party, but Shaundi sneaks out to start the new year off on the right foot.

**a/n:** Written to fulfill a kiss prompt from TwistedSinews for a New Year's Kiss between Cinq &amp; Shaundi

**Countdown**

Even on the balcony Cinq could hear the ruckus from the party. He knew he should be inside. He was the host after all, but it felt so … fake. The champagne was as warm as the room full of bodies, most of which he barely knew. The cheesy music pulsed against the glass door behind him, and the voices of the crowd. From his vantage point, he could see the countdown timer, which had the people filling the streets screaming even louder. The new year loomed.

Cinq startled when he felt a hand on his back.

"Easy, Boss. Just me," Shaundi said, slipping her hands around his waist.

He pressed one of his hands over hers, the other gripped the railing.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Cooling off."

"Something happen?" she asked, leaning her chin against his arm to look up at him.

With a groan, Cinq swung his arm around her and pulled her against his chest. He dropped a kiss on her forehead. "No, I meant literally. Too many people breathing and dancing."

Shaundi laughed softly. "Well, you could take off that jacket and give it to the woman in the strapless dress."

With a smirk he started to shrug it off.

"I was kidding," she retorted.

Cinq draped the jacket over her shoulders. Holding onto the lapels he pulled her closer. "Never kid when chivalry's involved," he teased.

"I'll remember that for next time."

The chanting surrounded them on all sides, from the room behind him and rising from the street below. "You always say that."

Shaundi smiled up at him. She pulled out one of those poppers and pulled the string "Happy New Year, Cinq!" she laughed as glitter and thin tissue paper streamers fell over the pair of them.

With a sweet smile on his lips, he pulled a silvery metallic fleck out of her hair, then he tucked his fingers under her chin to lift it. "Happy New Year!" he whispered before he kissed her softly. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Leaving the party." He pushed her hair off her forehead. "Coming out here. Stealing my coat."

Shaundi pinched his ribs. "I think you better shut up and kiss me before I go back in there and take your jacket with me."

Cinq laughed and did just that, smiling against her lips. It was a better New Year's night than he expected.


End file.
